Ravenclaw
by PrettyPrettyShinyShiny
Summary: Pyxis Potter is small, intelligent and the brother to the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Chucked with the Dursleys, he comes out cold and distrusting. When Albus finally finds him, the old man has plans to make sure the boy is hurt no more...The Potters will never recover what they've so easily given away...


**Disc.**\- I will NEVER own Harry Potter! I just like toying with the characters.

**This Story…**\- Is wildly AU- _clearly._ So Pyxis, darling little Pyxis, grows differently with a different view and reactions. The creatures portrayed in this story are either real creatures (i.e., yellow striped cat snake) or ones found on the Harry Potter wiki (i.e., gytrash). So…Yeah.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Pyxis Anastase Potter read silently in the large old library, in a small corner that only he ever went to as he spent the day reading. None of his schoolmates nor his cousin ever came in the library and even less came anywhere near this edge of the long winding bookshelves. That it was hidden in London certainly helped some as well, considering he was supposed to be at home. But this library was his; the workers, while not knowing him by name, even brought him food sometimes. They assumed, he knew, that he was a street urchin. Normally they would report such children but he was so quiet and peaceful that they didn't mind him, giving him small smiles or trying to show him a child's book. He didn't read children-books- he disliked them. But what he did like were the older stories- the original ones. Like with Rapunzel- and how the witch found out she was pregnant and rendered her lover blind while casting out the pregnant woman. He smiled at the thought of that book.

Books that he took a special liking to- like that one- he snuck back here and put them in a distinct order of accessibility to the big comfy chair he usually kept in. There was a small but very nice looking end table with one clawfoot leg and on it were a dainty plate with different biscuits and a thermos of tea. One of the older women liked to bake and smothered the younger ones who took a liking to books with affection and goodies. He remembered unbidden one girl who was quite the enthusiast. She had very frizzy brown hair and her teeth had a bit of an overbite but her caramel-colored eyes had sparkled when she spoke about her favorite genre of books with one of the workers. Pyxis had of course gone immediately back to his dark little corner of the nice library. It had three floors- children's books and reading circle along with easier reads and magazines on the main floor, romance and suspense along with action upstairs, and everything else downstairs in the basement. Most only came down for history books in the front by the stairs. A few liked the horror or folklore section which came soon after (he liked it too and regularly brought books from those sections to his own) and then there were more serious ones, informational ones. And then- there was his corner. Found only by going through a large and tedious maze of books, the cold slate-colored tiles glinting from overhead lights every three feet or so, just enough light to read titles on the spines of books if one squinted, his corner was a place of absolute solitude. When he had first found it, there was a thick lining of dust on everything but he soon found it to be what would have been considered the banned books (had anyone ever bothered to actually come down to look). The workers never knew where he went off to, but that he was down in the basement. There was a singular bathroom near the stairs as well, meaning he could stay down here for a few days if he was given a couple sandwiches (more treats from workers when he came in). That it was constantly open didn't hurt either.

Currently he was partaking in a book about war- and the bloodiest, goriest of recorded history with a small stack of similar books set next to his big comfy chair. Things like battle tactics and torture methods were drawn out and explained in chapters between the stories and firsthand accounts to give the reader a better connection and sense of what horrors and pains were going on and it was a fascinating read. Though he supposed- as a newly turned six year-old- he shouldn't have been able to understand a thing. Lord knows Dudley could hardly read much beyond his own name and the word 'freak'. Which was why Pyxis was here most of the time, in this library. The Dursleys didn't much seem to care, other than that Petunia had to see to the domestic chores. When Pyxis had bothered with staying, he was usually working himself to exhaustion, then punished for not doing something in an exact way and sent to his cupboard (and locked in it) without dinner for a few hours of sleep before being rudely awoken to come and make breakfast.

So he mostly stayed here, only going home to go to school. He didn't much care for it, but it was necessary if the Dursleys didn't want child services to come again after they locked Pyxis out in the winter. Which they did every year, but that time someone saw. He hummed to himself, a soft little tune he had heard from the radio upstairs that morning while collecting the given provisions as he went on reading, absorbing each word and meaning with detail, captivated by the words that spun out gruesome battles and heart wrenching loss alongside the endless and piercing ache of constant agony. Beautiful, it was.

xXx

Had anyone asked the Dursleys and given a truthful- abso_lute_ly _truthful_ response, Petunia would say that she was frightened of the child. She had no clue why he was even _there_\- his parents were alive and well with their other son- Pyxis' twin Hollis. In the letter it simply stated that Hollis was some important figure who defeated some madman and that Pyxis was too sickly for the Potters to keep. Which was absolutely _ridiculous_ as she knew that Potter was disgustingly and filthily rich, they could hire an all-time nanny should the need have arisen. He had _old_ money. But Pyxis was a quiet child. Intelligent- far too much so to be natural. And he was _morbid_\- not in anything he said, but his mere presence was…Disconcerting.

Vernon would've said that he was an abomination that not even his drunkard father and whore of a mother wanted. And that he feared the creepy little bugger with his 'hoo-doo voodoo' witchery. He was silent, and his eyes were so horribly freakish- glowed they did! Green like burning acid. Not to mention that strange scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. Like it was _carved_ there.

And as for Dudley- well, he was just his freak-cousin who he got to beat up and blame everything on.

And at nine now, he had a bigger group of neighborhood boys to chase him with. The fastest of them was Michael- a blond boy four doors down. Still, Pyxis was much faster, darting away and then nimbly climbing trees and remaining there as the boys taunted him with juvenile and cruel words as he stared down at them with those cold glowing eyes of his.

Nevertheless, the boys persisted- Pyxis-Picking was always a favorite game, as he provided a challenge and no one cared if he was hurt or not, they all looked the other way. So when he was here and they got to pick on him, they took full advantage of it. However, dusk was approaching and they would soon be called in, leaving the small boy up in his tree. He would gracefully jump down, stumbling only a bit and go about his merry way to the library. It was his routine.

xXx

He'd gotten very good at jumping from trees or other high places, as it was a quicker means of potential escape. As he took a few steps, he stopped as he heard a low noise, cocking his head to the side as he looked over where it was coming from. A snake slipped through the bushes and Pyxis stood looking at it curiously. It certainly wasn't native to England, he could tell that much. Being black with rather bright yellow stripes and bottom jaw, it was a very…_Ostentatious_ looking reptile.

_(Idiotic flesh monkey! Dare it think it might capture me so easily?!)_, at the sibilant little rant, Pyxis interest grew to more than idle interest and he turned to face this new snake completely. _(And why is it so very cold here? Ah? Warmth ahead…Another flesh monkey?)_, this, Pyxis assumed, was himself this snake was…Talking about.

_(Human. I'm a human.)_, he offered to the pretty thing as it seemingly froze at his answer.

xXx

James and Lily Potter were a very happy couple- and why wouldn't they be? They were war heroes, James was a top Auror, Lily was a well-known Charms' Mistress and then there was their son. Their absolutely beloved child- Hollis. Not only was he their pride and joy, he was something much bigger. He was the _Boy-Who-Lived_. And Hollis was the perfect heir- wild Potter mane, a mini-James in every way. The only hint of his mother was that he didn't need glasses and the reddish tint his hair gained in the sun- and he was often in the sun, out with his father and godfather and their friends, playing quidditch or just fooling around.

But there were moments. Dark moments, when they were alone at night. They hadn't slept in the same bed since their son was born. Since…

Since both their sons were born. They knew well who was the Boy-Who-Lived of the two- the _prophecy_ child. Hollis was of good size, came out crying and pink. But the other child…He was small. So tiny, and he didn't cry- needed to be given several potions from the moment they brought him out. Dumbledore had tested both of their magic- and Hollis was the stronger of the two.

But those moments were few and far in between. Sirius and Remus hadn't begrudged them, even if they were antsy and anxious about their decision at the time. And while Dumbledore always seemed to have that disappointed look when he looked to them, when he did see them, they brushed it off. It's not like the man had disagreed with them per se. He just didn't approve when they had chosen to drop him off without his knowledge. Or consent, or council. But Hollis _needed_ their attention! It was better for the boy, surely, that he be sent elsewhere, not in the shadow of them and his brother.

They comforted themselves with thoughts like those when guilt sometimes nipped at the back of their minds like playful crups. Or perhaps a gytrash to haunt them…

xXx

Albus sighed, easing down into his chair slowly and rubbing his temples. Everything, and he does mean _everything_, has gone downhill since the Potters had ridden themselves of their second born. Hollis is growing tremendously spoilt, arrogance hovering in a cloud around the young boy. He feared the reactions that will come when he reaches Hogwarts. There were quite a number of neutral and Dark families that either didn't care for him or outright detested him. And even among some of the Light families, the shine of his feat as a babe had begun to wane. Of course, it was minimal but Albus knew it would continue to dissipate with time. Even if Voldemort came back. He'd been receiving the Healer reports that Hollis got every few months and the development of his core and magic was rather sluggish and average. But his father was the same and he was still very young. He could just be worrying for nothing in that respect.

The Ministry was almost as corrupt as it was in the war, maybe even more so as people were currently lulled into peace with Voldemort being gone for the moment. And while the power has almost always had some tendril of corruption creeping through the ranks, the man in office was possibly the weakest willed of men to be running their Ministry.

Long old fingers, nimble yet, corded under a beard-covered chin, said silvery-white beard in a complex braid matching his sleek hair as he thought more.

Frank Longbottom had been in St. Mungo's since the attack all those years ago- it seemed so far away a time when they were fighting so ferociously for what they believed in- be it for the Light or the Dark. Alice Longbottom had been missing for almost seven months, then returning to seeing her son Neville being nearly drowned at Blackpool Pier- _'making sure he wasn't a squib'_\- and had gone into an understandable fit of parental rage. Algie Longbottom now sits in Azkaban, and Lady Augusta and Algie's wife no longer have access to the main Longbottom Vaults, instead having smaller ones that Alice gives the galleons for. She is naturally bitter and does not let them lounge in as much luxury as they had previous. They have since moved away to France, still stuck on their meager stipend. Nobody tried to stop them from leaving.

Not only that but there were no more searches for the escaped Death-Eaters; result of a few whispers and galleons being passed around. That being said- only one fifth of known Death-Eaters are in Azkaban. As for the unknown- well…

Few believed that he was only gone for the moment. Too busy trying to forget the war and the losses it caused, and at any sign or word of it returning the natural response from the Ministry and people would be denial. And by the time the threat was _forced_ to be acknowledged, there would be mass hysteria as few would have taken the time to train or flee.

But he was thinking too far ahead. A knock at the door had it swinging open.

"Yes Severus?", he offered, frowning down vacantly at his desk. There was a wisp of robes being whisked across the floor for the tall dour man to stand in front of the ornate desk.

"You wished to know when the potion would be complete.", his slow drawl came in a low baritone. Blue eyes, distracted still, glanced up at disdaining onyx ones, half hidden behind lank black locks. A vial was delicately placed in front of him, potions stained fingers slipping back to his side as Albus sat up a bit straighter.

The Potters, to ensure no Death Eaters or perhaps reporters might find their other son (one of the only protection precautions the Potters took, and hastily at that), had used an old and archaic ritual to hide him. Severus had had to create a potion to counteract it and find the boy without anything except for an old blanket the boy had been wrapped in when he was born. A very arduous task, and he had other responsibilities to attend to. Albus had made sure to stress that there was no deadline and that this project could be on the backburner (whatever that muggle term meant) for as long as it took.

The Potters- while they made that little ritual- had also ensured that no letters would find him either and the Potters would not tell a soul where they sent the boy. He knew the two friends, Lupin and Black, had for a short while suspected Lily's muggle sister. Though they threw the idea out as Petunia Dursley was a sour woman who hated anything to do with her sister- including magic. Most _especially_ magic. Even so, the blasted Potter duo had pulled a few wards and strings as the Boy-Who-Lived's parents and war heroes to hide her sister and her family. Worse yet, they were planning on keeping the other child away from Hogwarts!

_Preposterous__!_

Albus slowly held the small vial up, squinting beyond his half-moon glasses and lightly examining the twirling golden liquid inside. "Truly Severus, you are a revolutionary in Potions.", he praised. The man tensed but he saw the flicker of a pleased look pass his eyes before it was hidden neatly. "As you are indeed the creator of this, I must ask that you do the honors."

xXx

Pyxis' legs were curled up on the big comfy chair, book resting against his knees as he enjoyed his latest interest. Fiction horror was a great entertainment for him. The snake (which he soon learnt was a yellow-striped cat snake- found in Europe yes, but not England- apparently he was smuggled in for an unlicensed collector) was curled under his too large shirt, basking in the warmth he, as a hot-blooded mammal, radiated. Biscuits and hot chocolate rested on his end table and he had a thick blanket wrapped around him. As it was winter, one of the younger workers brought in the blanket for him. He appreciated this act of kindness (or pity- didn't matter to him) immensely. If the book weren't so very interesting he might've nodded off by now.

As such, he was awake and aware when he heard soft steps echo through the basement. His eyes darted through, trying to use the sounds to locate their position. This labyrinth was his- he knew every bookshelf, every tile of space. But the echo was a bit confusing. Hard to tell where they came from. That he was hearing them at all was worrisome. He shifted just a bit, waking up his long slim companion, who gave a soft hiss of agitation.

_(Someone's getting close.)_

_(Hm?)_, he felt the cooler scales slide against his torso as the snake's head peeked up through his shirt and the blanket, tongue flicking this way and that way. _(Two fleshy ones.)_, he gave him, looking up at him with dark glinting eyes. _(What shall we do, tiny monkey?)_

_(Human.)_, he corrected absently, sitting up a bit more as his blanket and shirt slipped off his shoulder. A slight shadow alerted him as two people stepped into his corner. He looked from one to the other as two sets of eyes looked down at him. Disdainful black and sorrowful blue. He tensed at the looks the strange men were giving him and the snake responded, rearing up and hissing, surprising the two men. Sticks were soon in the hands of both men, pointed at his snake and Pyxis hurriedly grabbed him with the blanket, hiding him in the folds as he darted off of his chair, backing away from the two men as his stack of books fell over, clattering loudly in the resounding silence.

"My dear boy, I am Professor Albus Dumbledore.", the older man began slowly, putting down his stick cautiously. "Do you know...Who your parents are, Mr. Potter?", Pyxis kept silent, taking a slight step back as he prepared to bolt.

"Answer the question, boy.", the younger man growled and Pyxis' eyes snapped to the tall looming man, arms tightening on the bundle of blanket, the snake squirming angrily. He didn't like the man's eyes. They reminded him of Petunia's, that same revulsion at his mere existence.

"My parents,", his voice was small and quiet, "Are no one to me. Who are you?", his gaze once more switched between the two. His lips pursed, "And how do you know my name?"

"I'll take that as a no.", the old one frowned, hand coming up to stroke the long white beard. "May I ask, my dear boy, what you are doing here?"

"Reading.", he answered curtly, eyeing the strange looking stick the tall man still had pointed at him. He held it like a weapon. The old man chuckled and Pyxis spared him a fleeting glance.

"But what of your guardians?"

"Why?", this time his voice was sharp and piercing green eyes were locked on the old man's. For a few moments there was silence and the man seemed to be looking for something. His features turned grim and that made Pyxis tense even more than his small body already was.

"Mr. Potter, I believe we need to have a word with your Aunt Petunia and her husband."

Well, that just did it now didn't it?

Pyxis bolted.

xXx

It didn't take more than twenty minutes for the men to find him again, shivering in a thin dirty alley with the taken blanket wrapped tightly around his trembling body. Albus sighed, scooping up the child and frowning at how light he was. And he was awfully small for being a nine year-old. "Perhaps we should take him to Poppy first.", he murmured more to himself than to Severus. And soon enough they had the boy sleeping in a hospital bed in a more secure and private area of the Hospital Wing.

"Come Severus, we must be off.", he waved as they left Poppy hovering over the child who lay peacefully, the snake placed safely in a cage on the small table beside.

When Pyxis woke up, it was dark- but bright. The walls were white. He was comfortable, ensnared in several warm blankets on a soft bed, in soft clothes that retained even more warmth. It was _heavenly_ and he wondered, briefly, if Vernon killed him and buried him in Petunia's garden like he always said he would. Or maybe if Dudley had accidentally killed him. Or, much more peaceably, he simply froze to death.

But hissing words soon dissuaded him of his little illusion.

_(Monkey! Monkey wake up! It is cold! Cold I say!)_, his movements to retrieve the snake were sluggish and heavy and he frowned at how much his body resisted movement before he peered at his scaly companion.

_(Are you in a cage? What happened?)_, he mumbled quietly, reaching with weak hands to the strange cage. Shaking fingers undid three latches and his snake quickly dived into his shirt, making him shudder and jolt, goosebumps raising all over his body in response to the freezing cold scales sliding along his body.

_(Those men caught you.)_, he responded, slightly muffled as he moved around to find a comfortable spot. A head peeked out from the collar of his nightshirt, beady dark eyes blinking at him. _(And brought us here. They put me in that damnable cage, and made you drink some strange sludge-like thing. You fell __limp__ after that.)_, a tongue flickered over his collarbones worriedly. _(Are you alright now, monkey?)_

_(Human. I'm human.)_, he said softly, raising his hand under the covers to stroke the scales between its eyes as sleep once more began to pull him under its influence. He tried to stay awake but he was far too comfortable to put up any good fight.

xXx

Albus hummed quietly, sitting in silent neutrality, but anyone could see the pleased, justified look beneath the man's usual twinkling eyes. Minerva sat stiffly beside him, still bristling in anger over the muggles. And she was uncharacteristically angry at her three Marauders and Lily. After all, only the Potters, Black and Lupin really knew much of the second son. If anyone did any digging or was, as Minerva is, close to the family, and did indeed find out Lily had twins, they would've assumed the other had died soon after, or was perhaps a stillborn. Albus only ever knew the Potters had once asked him hypothetically (while she was pregnant yet) if they should put the other child someplace else. He rejected their plan, yet it seems they had gone through with it anyhow. He only ever knew by a certain slip-up from Sirius that prompted an awkward and tense conversation. They couldn't even recall his name- and if he recalled (which he does), it wasn't they who named him, but his (at the time dying) grandmother Dorea who named him. Sadly, Dorea hadn't been alive to see the birth of her grandsons. Perhaps Pyxis would've stayed with her if she'd been in better health. Though it'd been difficult for her after her husband was killed in the war, Pyxis might've given her renewed vigor.

He almost sighed, had he not been where he was and who he was around. Purebloods, the lot of them, with only two Halfbloods. Several of which were and are still Death Eaters (once you had that mark, it was a life-long endeavor) and would and will gladly condemn the muggles. Albus could say quite frankly (only to himself, mind, he is a leader for the Light) that he hoped for them to rot in Azkaban for a bit before taking the Kiss. And as for the small whale-child? Well, the boy had time to learn, given proper teaching.

Soon enough everyone settled as they awaited the verdict of the three-hour trial. Albus smiled grimly as the two muggles were ushered in, the woman drawn and pale, the man blubbering angrily of freaks and insolence. As this was a, ah, very private trial (with his position and deeds to society came much power and infinite connections), neither James nor Lily were here as normal custom would dictate. Good for it too- they'd been named as the ones who simply left the child in the cold November air after that fateful night on a doorstep of all things! With a simple note stating that they didn't want the child and so were dropping him on them. As soon as the words were issued from the judges- a panel of older, more traditional Purebloods- Albus allowed a grim smile to cross his lips and he felt an emanating fatalistic smugness about the woman he had brought with him.

"What will become of the boy now?"

"Oh, don't worry Minerva. His legal guardian will be notified that his responsibilities to his godson have been thus deemed null and void."

"And who, might I ask, is taking over in his stead?", the woman quirked an eyebrow at him as they walked briskly, ignoring the looks and whispers of the great Albus Dumbledore being at the Ministry. Albus' eyes twinkled playfully.

"Now now Minerva, you know as well as I that active school personnel such as ourselves are forbidden to take in past, present or future students.", he chided simply, a serene smile decorating his aged face.

"Then who will be getting the child? Albus!", she called as he simply offered her another innocent smile.

xXx

Pyxis moved silently, eyes darting this way and that and when a door opened and light spilled onto the clean white tiles, he tensed and quickly darted behind a few convenient curtains. He peeked just around them and saw a homely looking woman, though she seemed quite stern as she bustled over with purpose to where he had been not five minutes ago.

"Mr. Potter?", she called softly, her voice curt but cordial. He hid further in the dark shadows that his hiding place afforded him. He was most certainly _not_ going out there for her to find him. Bad enough he was taken in the first place. "Mr. Potter, you are in no condition to be up and about!", she said as she pulled out a stick- why these people were brandishing them so, he didn't know and quite frankly, didn't want to find out. He slipped back, slinking away steadily as she muttered something, the tip of the stick lighting up in a fine green. He was momentarily frozen at that, finding himself to be very curious. But he quickly shook that off, sneaking out and hurriedly finding the large doors. "Mr. Potter!", he glanced back, seeing the woman coming closer to his location, following a small tendril of the green that pointed right at him. He tensed up and quickly yanked one of the heavy doors open, dashing out and away.

xXx

Albus blinked, looking at the little bauble on his desk connected to the charms on Pyxis' bed. He frowned a bit, getting up as it spun, emitting a high beep. "Oh dear..."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Ah...Please review?


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